


Baying at the Moon

by Megan



Category: Original Work
Genre: Brainwashing, Consent Rendered Meaningless, Double Penetration, Double Penetration in One Hole, Forced Orgasm, Hemipenis, Humiliation, Implied Masochism, Implied Public Use, Incest Fantasy, Large Cock, M/M, Memory Alteration, Memory Magic, Mention of Cultural Misogyny and Homophobia, Mindbreak, Objectification, Partial Mind Control, Public Humiliation, Victim Treated Like a Lover, Xeno, implied gang rape, unwanted arousal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-30 02:54:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11454504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megan/pseuds/Megan
Summary: Raiders think the temple of the moon god will be an easy target. The moon god thinks their leader is an easier target.





	Baying at the Moon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nonconamod](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonconamod/gifts).



> This went way off the rails from the original request (it's sort of... halfway between God/Male Sacrifice and Dragon/Male Knight, with a dash of Enemy General/Captured Prince for flavor), but I'm gifting it to the mod account in the hope that someone is looking for a dragon god mindfucking a warrior in way over his head.

It had been decades since the barbarians had attacked Sarkan's temple, for all it was closer to the border than his sister's. And now that they had sent someone, it was clearly out of disrespect rather than fear: a tiny raiding party, not an invasion force, and it was one led by the youngest son of a minor border warlord. Sarkan hadn't even needed to go through the young man's head to know he was the youngest; that had been clear enough from all the demands to let him go or else.

His sharp cheekbones were flushed with anger or humiliation or both, his bright eyes alight with fury. The long, dark horsetail trailing over his shoulder had nearly fallen out during his struggles with the priests.

"I know what you are!" He tried to lash out, as if he could break the grip of a dragon. The leather of his riding breeches was already beginning to scuff against the scales where his thighs straddled the god's leg. "A monster who thinks he's a god, who deceives these people into thinking he's the _moon_ with wine and perversion. My father doesn't fear you, and neither do I. No matter how long you keep me here, I won't."

For a people who went into berserker rage at the drop of a hat, the barbarians across the northern border didn't have a healthy respect for the god who also ruled over _madness_.

"Oh, don't worry. I'll give you back to your father," Sarkan murmured, and if he lingered a little too long in licking the boy's ear, well, he was entitled. At least that idiot warlord had sent his _pretty_ son to raze the temple. "But only when you don't want to leave. Then I'll send you back to your clan, singing my praises to any warrior who can keep his cock out of your mouth long enough. If you convert enough of them, I might even let you come back."

Then he did go through the pretty boy's head. Combing through thoughts and shaping them to his whim was his privilege if anything was. Even stripped naked, separated from his warriors, and held down on a god's lap, Valery son of Mikhail son of Dmitri-- Valya, because of course he'd use such a charming diminutive for such a charming-looking boy-- wanted nothing more than to grab the scythe mounted behind his dais and cleave Sarkan's head from his shoulders.

Well, he could fix that inconvenient fact.

"I would never," Valya snarled back at him, thrashing as if he thought he had any hope of breaking free.

"Never what?" He smiled. "Never want to come back? Never whisper in a man's ear that there's a better way than fighting and you can show him? You can't mean that you'd never suck cock, not with that mouth. You'd be depriving the world of such pleasure."

The boy had to have known who he was dealing with. Even from a people who didn't venerate the moon, he had to know what this temple was dedicated to.

"You're disgusting." His pretty face twisted into a snarl that only got worse when a loud moan penetrated the heavy doors. "What have you done to them?"

"Me? Nothing. Your soldiers are learning a lesson from my acolytes, who are very, very persuasive. Just like you will be by the time you report your success here to whichever one of your brothers is leading by then. I can never keep them straight, there are so many of them-- that's how I know you're lying about what your mouth is good for. So many big, strong brothers pinning you to the ground during training or strapping you when you step out of line, and you expect me to believe that not one of them had you on your knees?"

"What kind of perverted demon are you?" Valya all but howled at him, and that gave him the loveliest idea.

"It's all right, darling boy, you don't have to lie to me." He combed his fingers through long, fine hair, pulling it down from its tail. As he did, he looked through Valya's head and nudged just a few things around. "I know you suck them all off whenever you get the chance. Who wouldn't?"

He didn't need much, just the brothers' names and how Valya felt about them. His confused mind would scramble to fill in the gaps; they always did. Glimpses and rumors and campfire stories about what they did with women would be enough.

"I wouldn't-- no, that's wrong." Valya sounded confused, but still belligerent. "I did. But it's none of your business, demon."

"Tell me about Alexei," he pressed, putting enough command into his voice that poor Valya would be hard pressed to resist. The name had been the first one to rise in Valya's mind at the word _brother_ , a stern but kind older brother who would be so disappointed if he knew where Valya sat just then. "About how you got to be his favorite little brother."

"I-- he-- _I don't remember_." He did try to fight it, so Sarkan stroked his fingers up the back of Valya's neck and began massaging his scalp. Valya shivered, probably from both the touch and the magic winding through his mind. "He... I... liked it?" Valya made a soft, confused sound.

"You did." He let one clawed hand slide down Valya's bare flank, even the smoother scales on his palm rubbing the skin red. "You still do. Just thinking about it makes you want to suck my cock, too."

"I don't." He shook his head as if to clear it, but Sarkan turned his head so he couldn't look away again. He was already starting to get hard, the whispers in his mind doing what all the oil and careful preparation the priests had used on him hadn't.

"You do," Sarkan insisted. "Look at it, really think about it, and tell me that you don't want it."

His cocks were just starting to unsheathe, pressing up thick and slippery between them, and he pushed Valya's head down to force him to look. With his head as muddled as it was, it didn't seem to occur to him to close his eyes.

"That's disgusting," Valya whispered. It sounded more like a question.

"Terribly disgusting," he agreed, mild and pleasant as could be. "Which is why you want it. Lucky for you, I'm generous. All you have to do is kneel for me, and you can have it."

Valya stared, his mouth slightly open.

"Or I can fuck you," he murmured. "Then you get what you want and you don't have to look. I know you'll like that even better-- you're used to being on your hands and knees for your warriors, aren't you? Your brothers use your mouth, but your warband prefers your ass after a battle."

He let go of Valya's hands, and the suggestion held. He practically slid to the floor between Sarkan's legs.

"Well done, Valya," he murmured, but that seemed to clear some of the fog.

"That's not... no one calls me that anymore." There was that confused tone again, the one that made him sound like he was asking the god about his own memories instead of trusting them.

"Who told you that? Of course they do. No one could look at you and think you have a name as dignified as _Valery Mikhailovich_." He stood up and coaxed Valya forward, until they were at the front of the dais and he could spread Valya out onto all fours.

Valya made another questioning noise as the god loomed over him, scaled hands pinning his and wings flung outward for balance.

"Can I fuck you, darling boy?" He murmured in Valya's ear.

"No...?" Valya shivered. Sarkan licked the shell of his ear, and he trembled harder. "I mean, yes? I don't know. If I say yes I don't have to look at that disgusting thing."

"That's right." Perhaps he'd leaned a bit too hard, too fast. He wanted the boy pliable and doubting his own mind, not a confused wreck who didn't know down from up. Time to put things back to rights before his mind went to mush entirely.

He left a few changes intact-- most notably, he would distinctly recall all of those blowjobs he hadn't given his brothers and his yearning to be thrown down and fucked until he screamed that wasn't. Every man who hadn't treated him roughly was still there, every armsmaster and priest and subordinate he could remember taking advantage whether he said yes or not was still real to him.

Everything else he allowed to return to how it should have been.

"No," Valya gasped as he bucked against the hands pinning his. "No, no, I don't want this, I'll fucking kill you! I'm going to cut off both of your horsefucking dicks and then I'll kill you--"

"The only thing my cocks are fucking right now is you, darling boy," he crooned in Valya's ear. "You already said yes, remember? You offered yourself to me of your own free will."

He lined the head of one cock against Valya's slick hole. The other rubbed against the cleft of his ass, leaving a wet trail in its wake.

"I did not, you were fucking with my head!" He tried to tense up, but Sarkan could cheat-- at the first press of the cock against him, Valya melted into helpless, panting lassitude. "What the hell did you do to me?"

"It's not my fault you take cock like you were made for it," he lied.

Even with the exquisite preparation by the priests and his subconscious mind forcing him to remain so very pliant, Valya was tight. Tight enough that it took effort for Sarkan to push his cockhead in, and once the head popped past the slicked ring he stopped and let Valya catch his panting, hiccupping breath.

"You're taking me so well." Valya's flushed cheek rested on the surface of the dais, his huffing breath fogging the polished stone. "You're so good at this-- sending you to war is a waste of your talents. You're so much better with cocks than with blades, aren't you, lovely boy?"

The suggestion slipped into his mind was subtler, slipping across memory to memory with the delicacy of a spiderweb. _You'd make a better whore than a warlord, you're better suited to conducting your clan's diplomacy on your knees, you would have come to me willingly if things had been different._

"Don't talk to me like that," Valya choked out between desperate gasps for air. "Don't-- I--"

The protest trailed off into another overwhelmed hiccup of breath. Ever the proud son of a warlord-- he was trying not to sob.

"I'll talk to you however I like, and what I like is reminding you what you are." He resumed his slow, steady press into Valya's ass. "What you are is the sweet, lovely, darling boy who's going to come on my cocks until he can't remember his own name."

"Fuck your mother, may she be a whore who takes your entire warband up her ass." Valya's words started out hissing and vile from between his clenched teeth but suddenly went soft and gasping as another ridge forced its way past his rim. He panted for breath too hard to keep his jaw clenched shut for long.

The crass barbarian insult gave him an idea. When he was done here, there was an entire raiding party outside at the mercy of his acolytes. A raiding party he'd already insinuated had taken liberties with their leader.

"You'll have plenty of time with your warband when I'm finished with you," he assured Valya. "If you're half as good to them as you are to me right now, you'll have the most loyal band in your howling, barbaric excuse for a kingdom. Just think about it-- all of those men saving all that cock just for you, fucking you stupid after every battle instead of wasting it on raided villages or women they're civilized enough to pay for."

They would do it; he'd personally see to it that every one of them assumed that it had always been that way. Every raider in that band would take his baser urges out on his leader, who would take it, adore it, and beg for more.

"Better to fuck a warrior who would die for me than some monster who's convinced he's a god!" _Good_. The beautiful idiot had sprung the trap, his muddled mind filling in the gaps with a reason for his newfound submission. He wouldn't ever question it now, never feel a nagging wrongness to it when he knelt quivering and spitroasted between two processions of his filthy barbarian band. Valya believed it.

"And here you are getting to fuck both, you lucky little thing." He pushed in harder, unrelenting, and Valya keened every time a ridge won its battle against his reluctantly stretching entrance. When the last one finally rested inside, Sarken thrust as best he could with his other cock caught between his belly and the boy's tailbone. 

Valya let out a thin shriek, his voice already worn down from earlier. He'd be rasping voicelessly by the time he got a chance to beg for his soldiers. Assuming he was coherent at all by the time Sarken was done with him and they weren't fucking him in a cock-drunk, accepting daze.

"That's it, take it just like that." Not only was this boy beautiful, but he was so easy to rile with soft pet names and gentle, perverse encouragement. Sarken was fortunate he'd been the one sent here, indeed. "Keep opening so well for me and we'll have you full of my other cock in no time at all. You'll love it, I can tell by how much you need more."

"After I cut your filthy dick off, I'm going to cut out your heart and eat it," Valya rasped. His fingers scrabbled against the smooth, cool stone under them both, the first bit of physical resistance he'd managed in quite awhile. "And then my lieutenant will fuck me over your bleeding husk, so the last thing you see before you die will be how much I enjoy a real man."

Perfect. _Beautiful._ He wasn't sure whether he wanted to laugh, cry, or come at how flawlessly Valya had accepted the idea that he'd been fucking his devoted band since he was first old enough to have one. Even his coarsest insults had suddenly shifted to match the assumption that he was the one getting fucked.

"I'll give you something to compare it to, then." He pulled mostly out and thrust all the way back in one long, slow movement that left Valya trembling and whining despite himself. He did it again and again before Valya had a chance to catch his breath or compose another insult, until the boy was a shaking, moaning wreck beneath him.

Valya managed to dredge up some reserve of strength to fight when the second slick cockhead pressed up against his stretched rim.

"If you kill me with that now, at least you'll save yourself the shame of failing to satisfy me," he gasped. "And I'll die with honor, like the other warriors you've killed."

Sarken couldn't help it: he laughed.

"Killed? You dear, stupid boy, I don't kill people. Do you not have room in your pretty head for anything besides daydreaming about cock? Those warriors were all quite alive when they left my temple, simply... awakened to the possibilities of their lives once I'd blessed them." He nipped at the back of Valya's neck. "One of them gave himself to the centaur clan in the mountains, two indentured themselves as whores, one sold himself to a nobleman, and the two I liked best eloped together. They were the most redeemable two of you lot I've ever met, so I blessed them to insatiably desire each other instead of horse cock or humiliation or beatings."

"That's a filthy fucking lie, and my father's dogs will rip your tongue out for it after I kill you." Oh, he had found his spine at exactly the right time.

"That's exactly the sort of mouth one of the others had, and he spent the rest of his long life as a wet, wanting hole for any centaur to use whenever they liked. Oh, he wanted to go home, he didn't want to need horse cock, but he was going mad without it." He savored the disgusted, aroused shudder under him. He knew exactly what Valya was imagining: a flared, impossibly long cock spearing him through.

"I would kill myself first," Valya hissed.

"Yes, I think you would, darling boy," he murmured. A lie, but a lie to lock the door on the trap. "Which is why I'm showing you mercy like I showed two heroes. Your band loves you and you love them, which is more than I see in most of your kind. You're so angry at everyone else, so hateful, but I can see how good and sweet you want to be for them."

Valya screamed as the second fat head breached him.

"You'll never want for their loyalty, their desire, or their cocks in any hold they'll fit in." This wasn't the time for gentleness. No, his words needed to be as filthy and implacable as the irrevocable changes he wanted to wreak on this boy's body and mind. "That part is my reward to you. To earn that, you have to be learn to be sweeter."

Valya snarled something incoherent.

"The angrier you get, the more you're going to need to be fucked. The more you insult someone, the more you're going to notice their hands and their mouth and anything they have that can fill you up. Decide to steal a horse, fuck its owner instead as an apology. I'll be shocked if you can ride into battle at all-- the first time you kill a man you'll be as a dog in heat."

"You're a son of a--"

What, exactly, Valya thought he was the son of remained a mystery, because he stopped midsentence and started writhing.

"We will rend your-- _nghhh_ \-- your flesh from your bones and I'll wear your scaly hide as a clo _ohhhhhhak_ \--" There was far less resistance as Sarken continued his slow, careful thrust into Valya's newly yielding body.

"Only if you wear it while you're naked; I want to be right against that pretty skin of yours." Valya thrust his hips back into the penetration as best he could while pinned down, and the sound ripped from his throat when both cocks were buried to the base was breathtaking.

The boy was so wrecked, fighting his own overwhelming need to submit, that Sarken released his hands. Valya wasn't in any state to fight him off, and he needed that claw to grab him by the hair and pull his face up off the floor.

"Bring them in," he called out over Valya's shoulder. "I want them to see their leader."

"No, no, you-- _fuck me_ \-- get out of my head--" He shook his head, but couldn't manage any more of a protest than that.

"I'm not in your head. You're the one who can't control his temper." Sarken debated coming then, letting Valya face his men with it dripping from him and pooling between his knees on the floor, but the time didn't feel quite right.

The doors opened, and the warriors' minds along with it.

They all looked a little dazed as they adjusted to their new reality, but that ended quickly enough when Valya arched his back against the weight pinning him down and screamed out his orgasm _beautifully_. He wore shame as a holy raiment, his red face and ragged, sobbing moans perfectly suited to him. This was what he'd been born for, this moment when he crumbled before a god and lay helpless and trembling as he waited to be rebuilt in the proper image.

One of them-- the lieutenant whose image had been in Valya's head when he'd snarled that delightful threat about fucking over his corpse-- stepped forward when Valya's scream trailed off into miserable moaning. Sarken didn't bother rifling through Valya's head for his name; it wasn't important enough to risk any of the finely-placed mental latticework he'd set up.

"Don't look at me," he moaned. He couldn't duck his head with his hair still caught in an iron-clawed grip, but he tried. "Don't fucking look--"

"If we don't look, he wins." The lieutenant had a low, rough voice and an incredible breadth to his shoulders. He could have been a temple guard of old, back when the finest tributes went to both sky gods equally. "Look me in the eye, commander. You're doing this for all of us-- think of that instead of the monster."

It didn't take more than a few seconds for the lieutenant to cross the entryway and reach the dais in the middle of the temple. When he reached the edge, he stroked his fingers over Valya's tearstained cheek and slipped a thumb over the swollen lower lip to press into that slack, wet mouth with a tenderness that Sarken certainly hadn't given them.

Valya leaned into the petting, moaned, sucked at his lieutenant's thumb with an enthusiasm he hadn't shown a god. It would be insulting if it weren't fascinating.

They hadn't fucked before; Valya had never touched a cock that wasn't his own. But a look though the places he'd left well enough alone before, the soft, secret places that had nothing to do with the violence his people wreaked, told the story of how much he'd wanted to. The trust, the respect, between the warlord's improbably lovely son and his broad-shouldered mountain of a lieutenant was the last thing he'd expected to see.

"I should have you killed for your insolence in touching what's mine," he said to the lieutenant.

Valya's full-body shudder and filthy, mindless moaning was another orgasm, so incandescently furious that he'd come again already. It kept on going, his body wrung dry but forced through a clenching and shivering that went on too long by his own boundless rage.

"He's so angry at the thought of me killing you that he can't control himself." Sarken lifted his head to smirk at the lieutenant. "Even if he makes it through this without losing his mind, you'll certainly never be able to sate him. And it's your fault."

"No," Valya rasped, still trembling with aftershocks but momentarily lucid. "It's not. I need-- lieutenant, I-- the angrier I get with him the emptier I feel. Fuck me, fuck my throat so hard I can't scream for him ever again--"

He stopped speaking, eyes glazed over once again, and mouthed at the leather of his lieutenant's unlaced trousers like he couldn't quite find the right place. 

His lieutenant took pity on him and pulled out his cock, shiny with oil or spit or both. It hit Valya in the cheek before he managed to take it into his mouth, a wet smear of precome left behind on his face.

The sigh that spilled out of him as he sank his mouth down on his lieutenant's cock was pure satisfaction. It was everything his watering mouth had wanted; he could feel the shudder that ran all through Valya at the first taste of salt on his tongue.

However willing the spirit was, Valya's flesh had no muscle memory of the act. He choked a little as the cock pushed past his tongue and into his throat, but recovered quickly as his memory adapted to the reality of what sucking cock felt like.

Now was the perfect moment. Sarken let himself go, grinding his cocks in deep and spilling himself at last.

Valya froze for one brief breath of time, scarcely enough for his heart to beat once, before he collapsed with the force of his orgasm. Had he been facing a mortal man, had he not been pinned down by scale and claw and cock, he might have thrown himself at someone in the sort of frothing berserker rage his people were known for and clawed them open with nothing but his bare hands. But he wasn't, and all his fury earned him was his reason and control abandoning him in a very different way.

The lieutenant pulled out of his mouth just in time to avoid an accidental bite as Valya fell. His elbows and knees went slack, Sarken's weight pinning him to the dais, and the only sound he made was a mindless, gurgling moan as he writhed.

His head was close enough to the edge for his lieutenant to push his cock back into Valya's slack mouth. After a few thrusts, Valya came back to himself enough to suck at it. He still twitched and shuddered as his own impotent rage wrung aftershocks from him, eyes closed and his whole body pliable as a doll's.

Sarken pulled out then, now that Valya was a mumbling wreck who wouldn't be able to think of anything but cock until he calmed his temper a bit. Valya didn't seem to notice except that without the weight, he could scrabble forward on his hands and shove his mouth as far down his lieutenant as it would go.

His lieutenant didn't seem to have any sympathy for his situation; he fisted his hands in Valya's hair and moved him in the rhythm he wanted. It was deep, fast, and if Valya hadn't been so fucked out he might have gagged. But he was and so he didn't, and for a few minutes the only sounds in the the temple were quiet: the lieutenant's harsh breathing, the wet sound of Valya's mouth on him, the soft rasp of skin on skin as some of the warriors began stroking themselves.

The relative quiet only ended when the lieutenant gripped his hair even harder and drowned out the answering moan with a growl as he came.

Valya swallowed it down without protest. Why would he? So far as he was concerned he'd done this more times than he could count. 

He mouthed at the softening cock until his lieutenant fisted a hand in his hair and pulled his mouth away. Come and spit ran out of his mouth and down his chin; clearly he would need more practice before he could swallow it all neatly. Hopefully he'd learn to manage it by the time he was returned to his family; he'd need to be good if he wanted to seduce his brothers into silence after he assumed he was supposed to get on his knees for them.

"Don't debase yourself like that," his lieutenant said hoarsely. "There's no need to beg when everyone else is waiting to give you what you need."

Valya moaned softly and opened his mouth as his warriors lined up to show him their devotion.

**Author's Note:**

> I realize I've mixed my European ethnic warrior traditions here in coming up with a fantasy analogue (Cossacks and Vikings). Shhh, just go with it for porn. (I am also aware that 'Valya' is not the real-life diminutive of 'Valery,' but these characters are speaking a fantasy conlang, not actual Russian.)


End file.
